


The Long Day is Over

by Dulin



Series: Thirty Kisses [6]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Endless Waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4166526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulin/pseuds/Dulin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Quatre has bitten off more than he can chew.</p><p>Quatre POV, Angst, mentions of PTSD</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Day is Over

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge #9 in the LJ Thirty Kisses Challenge.  
> Theme : dash
> 
> The title of the fic comes from the Norah Jones song.

Another day passing me by, in a blur of colors, scents, noises. 

I have to go faster, always faster. There’s no time to stop, never. There are so many things I have to do, so many people to see, so many papers to sign, so many phone calls to answer. Always faster.

I knew that I would be caught the moment I accepted my sisters’ request to come back and take my place as the Winner heir. I knew that the workload would be enormous, that I would have to give up any pretense of personal life. I thought I was ready for it. I had absolutely no idea how not ready I was.

Faster, always faster. No time to stop. I’m always moving, always doing something. I go from meeting to meeting, shaking hands, giving out false smiles, making promises, using the power my money gives me so I can try to make things better, even though I know that the only thing that my stock-holders care about is profit.

It feels like if I stop, even for a second, something terrible is going to happen. I don’t know what, but it’s like a shadow hovering behind me, waiting for me to stumble and fall on the way. If I only falter in my steps, it’s going to fall on me and swallow me whole.

Of course I know that one of the reason I work myself to the ground is guilt. But who in my place would not feel guilty? Who would not try to atone for their mistakes? Of my fellow pilots, I am the only one who actually destroyed one of those colonies I had sworn to protect. Well, I suppose Zechs did almost destroy Earth, and that shot he fired, even if it landed in a deserted place, will have consequences on the environment for centuries to come. 

This night, like all nights, it is almost midnight as I make my way back to the penthouse loft that I am supposed to call home. I rarely spend more than four hours at a time there, and most of those hours are devoted to an uneasy sleep. I even try to solve problems, real or imaginary, in my dreams. When I’m on a trip on another colony or on Earth, I can spend more than a month without coming back here. I didn’t choose anything in here, neither the furniture nor the color of the walls. I never cooked in the kitchen, because I always have to be reminded to eat something. I never switched the state-of-the-art flat screen TV. The only two rooms that I occasionally use are the too big bedroom with its too big bed, and the too big bathroom with its too big shower stall and the tub I never used.

I fumble in my pocket to find my key card when I notice something strange. The door is slightly ajar. Someone came in while I was out. Immediately, I drop my suitcase and look for a gun I don’t carry anymore. I push the door open, very lightly, adrenaline racing through my veins. In this moment, in my own dark apartment, wondering who dared break into the privacy of what remains a sanctuary, no matter how little time I spend in there, I feel more alive, more aware. A bit like when I was piloting Sandrock. I feel like I can perceive each molecule of the air around me. I feel like I can hear the tiniest sound. And, above all, I feel angry at the person who crashed into my place. 

I can’t even remember the last time I was actually angry. My blood is pumping through my veins, faster. My heartbeat is faster too, excitement and anger meddling into each other. I scout my place very silently, opening doors to rooms I never use and exploring every inches of them to see if something has been misplaced. I wouldn’t even know it if it was the case, but I try nonetheless.

I find the intruder in my bedroom. He isn’t even hiding. He’s standing near the picture window, a hand pressed against the glass, looking outside. And he dumped a duffel in the middle of my bed. 

I would have recognized him anywhere.

“Heero?” I ask incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

He turns around, and in the dark, I can’t see the expression on his face. I come closer. I am babbling and I know it, but I am so surprised to see him here.

“Not that you’re not welcome, but why didn’t you call beforehand? I could have made sure to be home when you would have arrived and …”

In two strides, he’s in front of me, and a finger on my mouth silences me. I just stare helplessly up at him. He’s a bit taller than me now. It’s strange, I don’t think he was that tall last time we met.

Then, I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you when exactly was the last time we met. Everything is going so fast around me, on some days I wake up and realize months have gone by and I’m still in the same spot, no matter how fast I run.

He’s holding me now, his arms around me holding me in place and forcing me not to move. And I am scared. Scared to be so immobile. Scared to be forced in that place that I want to be in and want to escape at the same time.

“Duo called me,” he whispers suddenly. “He was very worried about you. He said that you were working too hard and you hadn’t called him in months.”

He looks at me solemnly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

I want to tell him it’s not his fault, it’s mine, I did that to myself. But I can’t. Because, deep inside, I’ve been waiting for someone to stop my mad run, to make me trip and fall, to shoot me down and put me to rest. Because I am burning down, consuming myself.

“I’m here now,” he says, still holding me close.

And I stand in the circle of his arms, not moving. Perfectly still. God, I’m scared. I am going to fall, I know it. I can even feel the ground giving way under my feet, or maybe my legs just can’t hold me up right now. But there are strong arms around me, and they are holding me up. Soft lips find my cheek and kiss away the tear of relief that escaped me, without me even noticing.

“It’s time to go to sleep, Quatre. You need rest.”


End file.
